


Body Parts

by shittershutter



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Bottom!Nate, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: "I kinda can't wait for you to grow the literal balls of steel," Wade confesses into the back of his neck. He sounds heartbroken, but very briefly. "Can you imagine all the puns I'll run with?"





	Body Parts

**Author's Note:**

> * Unbetad. Very sorry.

He strokes Wade's calf idly where it's thrown around his thigh, metal against the long tibia under the skin. His human brain does a half-decent job of tuning out the mechanical hiss his joints emit as they move. 

An improvised wrestling move Wade has initially brought him down to the mattress with -- chest to back, all four limbs wrapped around him -- is slowly turning into a hug. The man is nibbling at his spine, going down nub after nub, with the cannibalistic enthusiasm and he has to admit, it feels nice. The crushing forearm against his throat, still in a fighting mode, is nice, too, along with the soft fingers in his hair.

"It's a friendly rear naked choke, shut up," Wade slurs against the skin when he voices the disapproval of the half-assed choking technique. "You're the one against unconscious people in the bedroom."

"Dead people," Nate corrects automatically, swallowing hard against the forearm to prove his own vitality. "Just professional feedback, from one mass murderer to another." 

What really worries him is not the weakness of Wade's grip but how his lips feel glued to the spot between his shoulder blades, one vertebra down from where the virus stopped last time he reluctantly checked.

"Did it spread?" he asks in a barely audible whisper, hating how it's going to break the mood and ruin the fragile magic of cheap vanilla candles and even cheaper beer. 

Wade doesn't insult him with a lie and there is more truth in his pointed silence than in all the holy books of the world combined. 

He squeezes the man's ankle in gratitude and drowns the disappointment in a loud sigh. He's had a good, stable couple of years. The best ones a single organic vertebra can buy. 

"I kinda can't wait for you to grow the literal balls of steel," Wade confesses into the back of his neck. He sounds heartbroken, but very briefly. "Can you imagine all the puns I'll run with?"

Nate hums and thinks about vampires, zombies, and werewolves instead. Not specifically because their sheets are rags and blood from a previous couple of grappling rounds he's graciously allowing Wade to win by submission at the moment. But because even in the darkest ages of the most terrifying entertainment genre people would turn into monsters quickly and most of the time without having to endure the full awareness of that process. 

There was mercy in that swiftness, however pathetically small. 

Wade flicks a fresh baby tooth at him -- he has a few, after a poorly gauged bite through Nate's shiny collarbone -- then turns him over. The smile on his face is horrifying, with tongue pushing through the holes as the new teeth, equally crooked in places albeit whiter than the rest, grow into place.

Nate waits for the younger man to wipe his mouth before he goes for the kiss. The taste of it is still heavily metallic but the aforementioned cheapest beer softens that blow somewhat. 

They kiss, legs still fighting for dominance while the tongues do not. They slide against each other instead and it's calming, soothing almost. Which is a good thing, that short-lived zen because Wade wins by kneeling him square in the balls and it's the warmth in his chest under the meat and the metal alike that prevents him from biting the younger man's face off. 

"Oh baby," Wade whines in horror immediately after, wrapping both arms around the rigid body beneath his. "Right in the jewels."

He goes on and on about his personal investment into the balls of steel, literal or otherwise, as he kisses the fresh cold sweat off Nate's temples and massages the soft skin of his inner thighs, so close yet so far from the scene of the crime. 

As his body warms up again, Nate knees the man in the solar plexus and forgives him immediately.

Then Wade rolls him over and throws him the remaining clean pillow to moan into -- the notion he honestly, sincerely and uproariously laughs off by tossing it away into the darkness of the room and standing firmly on his knees with his shoulders relaxed and the head straight. 

It doesn't help him feel healthy or sane, the stance, but as both the organic and the mechanical parts of him buzz in anticipation, he feels balanced for a change. 

"You're so warm," Wade tells him in a rough whisper like it's a fucking surprising fact and he's not sure if he's talking about his insides or the metal planes of his chest Wade strokes gently like they're a newborn Labrador puppy, not the dangerous symbiotic growth that whirls and hisses with his every move. 

Nate misses his nipple like Wade misses his pubes -- there was no practical use to it but man did it feel good to have the sharp teeth biting into it. 

He hisses through the brief discomfort, digs his fists into the destroyed mattress and spreads his thighs wider to push back against the dick inside him that feels like a niche sex toy, so rough and oddly shaped, but with a human warmth to it. 

It has a human wiring directly to Wade's brain as he gives it a few rhythmical squeezes and gets biting kisses against his ears and the back of his neck in return. 

Nate stretches out, throws an arm around Wade's neck -- and in the heat of the moment he can't really tell if it's his human arm or the other one he'd rather pretend is not there unless he's in a battle. 

Whatever the other one is, he cups Wade's palm around his dick with it and they kiss, sticky wet lips against the healing bruising and the bite marks. 

The younger man's heartbeat grows louder against their ribs and his voice goes softer, barely audible as he chants, "Get it up, get it up, come on."

He arranges Nate's hips against his, pulling, pushing against the heated flesh until his lower back arches and the pelvis sticks up against Wade's lower belly and they click perfectly together then like it was meant to be. 

The younger man is so deep inside him he has to stop moving -- and squeeze Wade's wrist to stop him, too -- to give himself a moment to appreciate how really, really close they are, the closest they can be.

Then he buckles with an impatient grunt and gets moving again, back down the dick, forward against the fingers around him. 

Wade doesn't comment on his eagerness -- saving it for an awkward taxi ride or a dinner table setting later -- but he turns Nate's head and they kiss some more, saliva and tongues everywhere so Nate can tell he's doing a good job without the verbal encouragement. 

When Wade comes, it's quick and the shudder his body goes through makes the other man's teeth rattle. He waits for a bit to appreciate the hotness that spreads, both up his ass and more metaphorically, through his chest, metal and bone alike. 

His own thighs tremble as he leans on his elbows to get the best of Wade's remaining hardness and fucks himself back onto him until he comes against their combined hands and the intensity of it makes him sound angry while in reality, it's just a poorly masked contentment, nothing more. 

Wade changes the sheets and shares the last lukewarm beer with him on a condition that he stays away from the pajama pants. Being naked for prolonged periods of time is against every ounce of military training he's had and it makes him feel more vulnerable than when he's balancing himself on the tip of the man's dick. 

But Wade wants to stay naked, too, and it's not always the case. Nate's proud to note that in their bedroom it now is a frequent occurrence. He's so fucking proud, good god.

He wipes his mouth against the scared flesh of Wade's shoulder and keeps it there, the only contact between their bodies of open lips against the skin, as he falls asleep.


End file.
